


Is It Enough to Have Some Love?

by orphan_account



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 10:03:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/938653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank and Gerard used to be best friends before Gerard decided to leave the little town they lived in and study art in New York. Four years later, he comes back to live at his parents' house. He's not Frank's friend now, he's not even the old Gerard anymore - he's someone new and strange and when Frank gives in and starts spending time with him again, he realizes they might never be friends again. But they might be something else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is It Enough to Have Some Love?

**Author's Note:**

> Biggest thank you to Melody for being the best beta in the world.
> 
> Go [here](http://viviansface.livejournal.com/36525.html#cutid2) if you'd like to see the amazing art blood0nmyhands created for this fic, and go [here](http://anoceanmonster.livejournal.com/18514.html) or [here](http://anoceanmonster.dreamwidth.org/9484.html) if you'd like to listen to the oh-so perfect mix. :)

“Nah, you wouldn’t do that,” Frank exclaims as he bumps into Gerard’s shoulder.

The school year is almost over – they are frighteningly close to graduation and conversations concerning what happens next happen almost every other day. Gerard manages to mention art school in New York in every single one of them and despite Frank’s optimistic attitude (he’s too buried in his own denial to even realize it is denial), those remarks sting.

“Oh, but I would,” Gerard insists and when Frank looks over at him, he sees his eyes light up and he’s wearing one of his dreamy faces again. “I really fucking want to.”

Frank’s always been happy they’re able to walk home from school together, as they are basically neighbors, but these talks are seriously worrying him. He’d rather hide in his family’s house and not think about universities and school at all.

“So you’d just leave me here, is that it? You soulless bastard, you,” he says jokingly, but he’s not exactly joking.

Frank’s always had trouble with making friends. Okay, scratch that – Gerard Way is most likely the only person Frank actually considers a friend. They’ve been friends since kindergarten and the sheer possibility of Gerard leaving for school and never coming back is terrifying. And quite possible, to be honest. Gerard is the one who hates the small village they live in. Frank doesn’t really mind. Yeah, sure, he hates the rumors, he hates the fact that everyone knows everyone like they’re one huge family, but it’s really a love-hate relationship for him. Yeah, there’s too much love joining the hate for the ride.

“You know you can leave, too,” Gerard tells him for the thousandth time since the first time he mentioned leaving this little town behind. 

“I know I can,” Frank shrugs. They take a turn to the left and Frank can see their houses in a not so far distance. “But I don’t want to. My parents and… I’m not like you.” He hopes it doesn’t sound offensive, because it’s not what he meant. He simply knows Gerard hates this town, and his parents, his whole family actually, is something he wants to leave behind as well.

Gerard sighs. “I just feel so smothered here. I feel like I’m rotting.”

“I know,” Frank mutters. Jokes aside, he knows Gerard _will_ leave. He may have not said it in such a simple way, but Frank knows. He’s known Gerard his whole life and he can read it in his face. “But I’m going to miss you.”

“Aw, come on,” Gerard says and it’s him who bumps into Frank’s shoulder this time. “I’m not leaving yet. Graduation is in two months and besides, who says I’m going to get into the right school?”

“You mean the art school you applied for?” Frank raises his eyebrows at his best friend and grins. “Of course you’re going to get in. You’re a great artist.”

“And you’re a liar, Iero,” Gerard informs him and they both know today’s conversation on this matter is over.

Frank can’t help but wonder, as they get closer to their homes, how many discussions similar to this one they will have. He wonders, because he can’t help it, whether their friendship will go on or whether Gerard will leave Frank behind, too. In the end, he’s part of this town, too. 

He tries to shake off that horrible feeling, that one that’s telling him this will soon be over and he will have to walk home from wherever alone, but it’s not very effective. He’s lost in his thought when they reach Gerard’s house – as his is the first one in the line – and he says bye idly. Frank numbly makes his way towards his own home, which is only two houses down, and finds himself isolating himself in his room. 

He, as the only teenager ever, almost wishes high school would never end.

*

Frank lets his body fall into the booth, facing Mikey. “Today is horrible,” he whines, his bright-yellow apron dirty as if he’s been wearing it for weeks.

Mikey just nods, running his fingers down his glass of coke. The ice in it is slowly melting, making the glass slippery and wet – and cold. 

Frank sighs and goes on as if he’s gotten a proper response to his previous statement. “I mean, it’s just a local diner, okay. I know people pass this town a lot because it looks nice and they think, ‘oh, let’s have a dinner here before we suffer for another five hours in the car’, and that’s fine with me, because hey, it pays the bills, but I hate hectic days like this. It just wears me out and God, it makes me hate the job.”

“I thought you liked the job?” Mikey offers and finally looks up, his fingers stopping. 

Frank shrugs. “Of course I like it. I love it, most of the time. You get to talk to people and they’re nice to you because you bring them food, and they tip you because you’re nice right back to them. If I didn’t like the job, I wouldn’t have spent the past four years here.”

“Makes sense,” Mikey utters and takes a sip of his drink.

Frank eyes him from where he’s sitting. He knows he should probably get up and get back to work before Ray kills him (Ray, the owner, the sweet guy with murderous tendencies once you’re not doing your job), but he just sits there instead and narrows his eyes.

“So, what’s up?” Frank asks in the end, arms crossed. “You’re quiet. I mean, quiet _er_ than usual.” He’s known Mikey for many years, in the end – he’s Gerard’s brother, after all. They’ve been friends ever since Gerard left all those four and a half years ago for college. They sort of figured that once Gerard was gone, they didn’t really have anyone else to hang out with or just talk to at that matter, so friendship seemed like the best option.

Mikey sighs and pushes his half-full glass away. “Gerard’s coming home in two days,” he says with a blank expression on his face.

Frank manages to hold back a gasp and congratulates himself for it. “Oh. Why?” he asks, trying to sound as neutral as possible.

He’s not really friends with Gerard anymore. Sure, they did keep up with each other for the first three months or so, but once Gerard settled in in his fancy art school, Frank became less and less important until he wasn’t important at all. And it hurt, being abandoned by someone he’s considered his best friend. Long story short, they didn’t really manage to work it out – they just shouted at each other on the phone and haven’t talked ever since. Eventually, Gerard stopped coming for Christmas and it almost seemed like he has never even been a part of the town. And Frank moved on.

So why, honestly, if he had moved on, does it hurt to know that Gerard is coming back? For a split second, before Frank can control it, he’s scared something happened to Gerard, scared he’s hurt or in trouble, but he waves those thoughts away. If anything, he doesn’t have the right to worry about him, anyway. 

Mikey lets out a sigh and breaks the eye contact. “He called me a few nights ago. Told me he dropped out of art school two years ago and lived with his boyfriend. Completely relied on him. But they broke up and considering the way he told me, it was nasty. Gerard basically ended up on the street and doesn’t have anywhere to stay, so… yeah. He’s coming home for… I don’t know how long.”

Frank’s face falls sometime at the beginning, to be honest, because even though he doesn’t want to, he still somehow cares. “He dropped out? What the fuck, man?”

Mikey shrugs and shakes his head. “Tell me about it, man. I was as surprised as you are.”

“I’m not – “

“Frank!” Ray’s voice echoes through the diner and Frank makes a grimace. “Frank, I swear to God if I don’t see you cleaning up table three I will –“

“Coming!” Frank yells and jumps up, his tired legs protesting with short shots of pain. “I’ll be back later when he’s not watching,” he informs Mikey and forces a wink, not even sure why.

“Sure,” Mikey nods.

Frank’s already a few steps away when he lets out a groan and takes those few steps back. “Sorry, forgot to ask. Can I get you anything else?”

Mikey snorts. “Nope, I’m fine. Just hurry up or Toro will kill you.”

“No, he won’t. He’s just got a big mouth full of nasty words, but he wouldn’t do anything because then you would get mad at him and why would he ever want that, huh?”

“ _Iero_ ,” Ray calls his name again, sounding really vicious and angry this time. “Move or I won’t pay you for today.”

“Oh, now he’s using your last name,” Mikey exclaims, ignoring Frank’s previous remark. The blush covering his cheeks speaks for him, though, and Frank just grins and gets back to his work, much to his own discomfort and Ray’s happiness.

*

The shift isn’t longer than usual, but it’s a drag and Frank leaves the diner a few minutes after ten, tired as hell. Well, his legs are tired – his mind is wide awake, filled with thoughts that really shouldn’t be there.

He didn’t get to talk to Mikey all that much after their conversation. Ray kept an eye on him and Mikey eventually had to leave. Frank’s mind translated Gerard’s return into some sort of a mystery and he doesn’t exactly know what to do about it.

Don’t get him wrong. He hasn’t spoken to Gerard in over three years and he did a pretty good job at moving on. But still – once he knows Gerard’s coming back and that there’s a great possibility they will at least spot each other, if nothing else (because small towns are like that), he can’t help but go back to their friendship in his mind.

Because fighting or not, not talking to each other or not, they still have a past consisting of long years of being best friends. And that’s something.

And Frank feels anxious, worried. The safe place he’s built for himself over the few years, even though still living at his parents’ (he’s supposed to move out in a few weeks, though) now doesn’t feel safe at all. 

It’s crazy, because Gerard’s not even here yet, but Frank feels like he is the intruder to break his peace. Even when passing the Ways’ house on his walk back from work, he can’t help but glance at it as if it was a vicious enemy. He sighs to himself, then, and focuses on simply getting home without getting distracted by the wrong kind of thoughts. It proves to be ridiculously difficult.

His life goes on as if nothing happened after that, though. Even on the day Gerard’s supposed to come back, Frank _is_ not himself but tries to keep it to a minimum. For the first half of the day, it’s like he somehow expects Gerard to storm into the diner and turn his world upside down, but then Frank calms down and carries on with his duties. By the end of the day, he’s pretty much back to normal again, the idea of Gerard being somewhere within a walking distance forced mercilessly to the very back of his mind.

It stays there for a few days until Mikey picks Frank up in his old Toyota so they can drive themselves to the nearest city and go to the movies.

Frank doesn’t dare to ask about Gerard – doesn’t dare to be the first one to bring it up. Mikey is hesitant as well, but they both know they’re going to talk about it eventually and the tension becomes so unbearable with time that Frank has to break it in the end.

“So, I haven’t really seen Gerard around.” _Not that he’s complaining._ “Is he back or isn’t he?”

Mikey behind the wheel looks almost relived when Frank asks that question. “Dude. I didn’t want to bring it up in case you weren’t okay with it, but I’m so glad you asked.”

And that right there is as many words as Mikey usually speaks throughout five hours and more. Frank can tell something’s not right and he doesn’t have to be Einstein to realize that the something that’s not right is actually someone and it’s Gerard.

“No, I’m okay with it,” Frank says quickly. “I mean, if you want to talk about.”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“So he _is_ back, right?” Frank asks again, partially because he really needs confirmation and also because he needs to say something to make Mikey talk and he can’t think of anything else.

Mikey nods. He seems pleased to be able to focus on the road and not make eye contact – that’s not his favorite at all. “He is. And man, he’s just hiding in his old room, that’s why you haven’t seen him around. I barely talked to him, seriously.”

“What’s up with him?” Frank shoots another question, not fully aware of the fact he’s holding his breath. Despite everything, it’s not easy to talk about Gerard as his friend’s brother, about Gerard like he is a stranger. But then again, that’s all he is now.

Mikey shrugs. “I don’t know. But man, he looks like, ten years older than you. I swear to God I have no idea what happened to him back in New York, but he looks awful. And he acts awful, too. It’s like he doesn’t acknowledge how thankful he should be. I wouldn’t be surprised if mom refused to let him stay after he treated us all like we were garbage. Just because he was ‘an artist’. And now he’s not, but he’s still a douchebag.”

“Wow,” Frank utters, mostly because he doesn’t know what else to say. It doesn’t sound like Gerard at all – he can’t really imagine it happening for real, it’s more like a story told to him just for amusement.

“Yeah,” Mikey sighs. “Mom and dad are both seriously annoyed with him. He’s been back for, what, two days and I’m already expecting a huge, huge fight. I’m just waiting for mom to start throwing things at him.”

“Is it really that bad?” Frank asks with a raised eyebrow. It doesn’t sound like Mikey’s mom – she’s usually pretty cool about all sorts of things, so even this information sounds surreal.

“It’s even worse,” Mikey snorts, “I’m pretty sure she’s holding back because she doesn’t want him to leave again. Family and all that, you know.”

Frank hums and nods to himself, not saying anything for a while. They’re almost at the cinema now, and he doesn’t see much point in continuing the conversation. He focuses on the road just like Mikey does, Gerard occupying his mind. And he thinks – yeah, maybe that’s what big cities do to you when you go on your own without a hand to hold on to – they chew you and spit out something broken and awful.

Mikey stops the engine at the parking lot and Frank goes to get out, but Mikey turns to the side, his fingers still grasping the key. He stares at Frank for a spare second and Frank looks back at him, curious.

“I want to ask you something,” Mikey confesses, clutching the car keys in his hand and leaning back in his seat. “But you need to promise you won’t slap me.”

“I… won’t?” Frank offers, being aware that his statement goes up in a question instead of a firm dot.

Mikey sighs and breaks their eye contact. “I thought – it’s crazy but I thought maybe you could hang out with Gerard from time to time, while he’s here?”

Frank blinks a few times and thinks for a moment, as if trying to figure out if Mikey had really asked such a question or whether it was just a hallucination and lots of misheard words. When he looks at his friend, though, he sees his completely serious face and then, finally, he snorts. He kind of wants to turn it into a joke, but he knows better.

“Mikey – “ Frank tries, but gives up, exasperated. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” He hopes he said it gently, he definitely tried – he knows Mikey asked just because he wants his brother to go back to normal, but it wouldn’t be fair to Frank, now would it? Frank is, however stupid it sounds even in his head, still hurt over what went down between him and Gerard. They’ve never been anything but friends, oh no, but when a friendship goes to hell in a nasty way, it sometimes hurts much more than a failed relationship.

Mikey nods, as if he’d been expecting this answer. “Yeah, I get it. I just thought I’d ask, that’s all. Sorry if it offended you.”

“No, not at all,” Frank rushes to say. “I would be happy to help, but – I haven’t talked to Gerard in _years_ and I can’t say our last conversation went well. But you know that.”

Mikey laughs at that, and nods once again. “Oh yes, I remember that. Nut such good times, huh?”

Frank agrees, capable of laughing at it. He rubs his palms against his thighs, trapped in tight jeans, and looks out of the window. He hopes this conversation is over now, almost wishes for it – he’s still afraid he led Mikey down, but ‘hanging out’ with Gerard is not something he could do at the moment. The sooner they move on from this awkward silence, the better.

“So,” he says, shrugging his shoulder, “Let’s go?”

“God, yes,” Mikey says, audibly relieved he didn’t fuck anything up by daring to try and ask Frank. “I’ve been _dying_ to see this movie.”

So they go to the movies, and Frank one hundred percent forgets about the whole thing. Shoulder to shoulder with Mikey, he’s got a friend he’s always needed and he’s happy he managed to find himself one after Gerard had pushed him away, for whatever reasons.

*

The following few days are still a bit weird for Frank. He’s mostly trapped at work – and for a change, he’s glad; A. it means more money and he needs that for his flat that is currently under construction, and B. every time he’s not at work, he sort of expects Gerard to jump at him at basically every corner. Which gets to be a bit annoying by this point, really.

He usually walks home from work and it’s dark by that point – passing the Ways’ house, he always sees the basement lights on and that is the only sign of Gerard being there. Every time, he sappily remembers Gerard’s room and the familiarity he’d always found there, and then he has to push away the urge to run the rest of the way to his house.

“So, have you seen Gerard?” Frank’s mom asks one evening after Frank gets home for work and he’s so tired and annoyed and it’s one of the moments where he just wants to move out, right now.

He rubs his face and even though he feels like grabbing something in the kitchen, he decides to go for the stairs instead. They are closer to his room, closer to solitude, and far away from his mother.

“No, not at all,” he answers in the end, hoping it didn’t come across as annoyed, edging mad. “Why?”

“Oh, well, I just thought since you were best friends for such a long time before – “

“Mom,” Frank cuts her off, setting his foot on the first step. “We’re not friends anymore. We haven’t been friends for years, and you know that.”

“I don’t know, I just figured, since he’s here, you could… I don’t know. Fix things. It’s always better face to face, lots of things get explained…”

“Well, I’m not interested in fixing anything,” Frank informs her in a stubborn voice, which probably reminds them both of Frank’s teenage years and his attitude during those years. 

Frank’s mom looks him up and down and Frank can only wonder what kind of a look that is. She’s either having another epiphany of “oh, how grown up he is” or she’s trying to decide whether he’s bullshitting her or not. 

“Okay, honey,” she says in the end and Frank has no idea what version she decided on at last. “I could get you late dinner, if you’re hungry.”

Although he’s more than happy to know she’s not going to keep asking about Gerard, he’d still rather be alone and the moment; he gives her a smile and shakes his head. “No, thanks. I’m tired so I’m just going to listen to music for a while and then go to bed. Good night, mom.”

“Good night, sweetie,” she offers back and he runs up the stairs. His mom is amazing – always so sweet to him, always so welcoming, and as far as he knows, she has never judged him. It makes him feel guilty that he abandoned her like that and that he’s moving out soon. He knows she’ll be alone – ever since Frank’s died two years back, it’s been just the two of them. Linda Iero is not particularly interested in meeting someone new.

Frank wonders, as he enters his room and breathes in the specific smell (books and wood and fresh air since he’d left his window open), if it makes him a bad son. He wonders if other kids stay with their parents for as long as they can, but of course, he can’t come up with a real answer. 

Moving out, though, still sounds like the best option for him – it would be something new, it would be just _him_ , even though he knows mom would still spend a lot of time with him and that he’d still visit her every day – well, most likely.

Frank falls asleep within ten minutes that time, even though it usually takes him a lot more. Maybe it’s the tiredness and maybe it’s something else, but sleep is an escape either way and he cherishes it.

The next day, he feels like something in him has changed. On his way to work, he doesn’t pay any attention to the Ways’ house and realizes this only when he’s almost two blocks away from there. It surprises him and after a long time, it’s finally a surprise that is without doubt pleasant. It puts him in a good mood, a much better one than the mood he’s been in for the past few days.

Even Ray notices when Frank is extremely polite and nice to everyone that day.

“You’re radiating sunshine today, dude,” he informs him during lunch break and Frank shrugs his shoulders, although it’s nice to hear it. 

Ray is, sort of, a friend to him, not just a boss. They had a few late night shifts together and talked a lot, even went for a beer once or twice, and Frank knows Ray cares – and Frank cares, too, in that matter.

“I don’t know, man. Finally got my beauty sleep or something,” he jokes, taking a bite of his sandwich. He’s got sort of fucked up eating habits – the only hot meal of the day for him is dinner, and he skips even that sometimes. 

Ray raises his eyebrow at him, “That one isn’t really coming through to me,” he says and earns a nudge in his side.

Even the rest of the day goes well, which is even more surprising than Frank’s realization in the morning. Nothing spoils it and nothing ruins it, and even though Frank does grow tired as the day goes on, it’s still pretty bearable.

He leaves work at five, which is considerably early – he’s headed to his future apartment, just to check on it (as if someone could have stolen it or something, seriously, his paranoia is ridiculous sometimes), and maybe think of something to do with the furniture. 

He still doesn’t have a bed there, but there’s a sofa he totally stole from their basement and the Ways had sold him their old kitchen table and chairs real cheap. He’s almost there, almost has the place ready – the bed and some details is all he needs.

Despite having the chairs, Frank sits on the floor for a few moments. He bought this apartment almost a year ago, when he finally had enough money. It took him such a long time to get everything else, but the sweeter his victory tastes. The thought that he’s leaving his mother behind has left him already – if he moved to New York just like Gerard did all those years back, that would mean leaving her. This way, he is not leaving anything; he is simply moving on. Which is his favorite thing to do, obviously.

He takes a tour through the flat before he leaves. He stops in his future bedroom, and he already can’t wait to decorate it when he finally moves in in a few weeks.

As Frank walks out of the building, he sighs. The flat is not that far away from his mother’s house, but it’s still a longer walk than the one he takes every day from work. It’s only a block or two more, because _come on_ , this town isn’t even big enough for one place to be far away from the other. But still. He lets himself be annoyed with it, even if it’s only for a few minutes.

By the time he turns left and onto the street he currently lives on, it’s already dark outside. He’d hoped he’d get home with the world’s lights still on, but that didn’t exactly work out.

He’s tempted to chance a look at the Ways’ house as he passes by, but he refuses to, trying to reenact the situation from the morning. He still wants to see the lights on in Gerard’s basement, for one reason or another – probably his inability to move on from the past or something. He frankly doesn’t know and he doesn’t want to care.

“Hey,” says a voice that definitely sounds familiar, but strange at the same time. ‘Frank?”

Frank stops dead in his tracks, recognizing the way those syllables drop on one’s tongue. He knows it’s Gerard – his voice is rougher, different, but he’s sure anyway. When Frank turns around, he sees a silhouette standing in the shadows, too far away from the street lamp to be seen. The only thing Frank sees clearly is a lit cigarette coming up to someone’s lips. To Gerard’s lips.

For a second, Frank wants to pretend the voice never spoke up and keep walking. He realizes then, though, that he acts like an abandoned boyfriend, and so he licks his lips and after a second of hesitation, he says, “Hey.”

He has no idea why Gerard would want to talk to him at all, and he finds himself taking one step towards the silhouette. It’s annoying him that he can’t see Gerard’s face, just the stupid cigarette.

“The town hasn’t changed at all,” Gerard says then, his conversational tone killing Frank right on the spot. It’s like Gerard’s decided to ignore that the last time they talked, they yelled a lot and said a lot of things. 

It gets to Frank, even though he doesn’t like it. “How would you know? Mikey told me you’re hiding in your old room all the time.”

“Ah, just recollecting memories and shit,” he says, not a bit of anger in his voice. Frank did sound bitter, sarcastic; he’d expected Gerard to react to that, but he didn’t. “I forgot you and Mikey are friends now.”

“You forgot about a lot of things ever since you moved out to your dream city,” Frank spits out before he can control it and he realizes the bitterness in his voice is aimed at Gerard as a person, not the fact he’s dared to start a conversation. 

Gerard doesn’t say anything to that, perhaps realizing it’s true. He’s still hidden in the dark, and now Frank can see him throwing the cigarette down to the ground and stepping on it. Frank almost wants to ask when Gerard started smoking, but, of course, he doesn’t.

“Heard you were working at the diner. Is that what you wanted to do with your life?” he asks instead and Frank knows it’s meant to hurt him.

It does. He wants to shout a million things at Gerard, varying from “Who the fuck are you to judge me?” through “It’s not exactly like _your_ life worked out” all the way to “Go fuck yourself”. Somehow, though, he doesn’t say any of those things. Perhaps he wants to prove himself to be a better person than Gerard is, not because he’s actually mature enough not to get in a stupid fight.

Frank purses his lips, and ignoring the fact his heart picked up a quicker pace than it should have, he says, “Bye, Gerard,” and with that, his eyes abandon the dark silhouette and he moves for his own house again.

He’s determined not to turn around again in case Gerard calls something after him… but Gerard doesn’t.

*

“No beauty sleep last night?” Ray asks when Frank gets to work the next day, thankfully just for the afternoon shift.

He glares at Ray and without a word, he brushes past him to put his bag in the backroom and grab that goddamned apron he hates so much sometimes.

He’s not exactly radiating sunshine today. He honestly has no idea if it’s his last night’s so-called conversation with Gerard or he simply woke up in an awful mood, but here he is and he feels like killing every single person that asks for grilled chicken with french fries. (He almost yells at Mrs. Tates when she asks for grilled chicken with rice, because fucking grilled chicken just doesn’t go with rice and why isn’t everyone cooking their own lunch at home anyway?!)

“Are you hangover?” Ray asks him two hours into his shift and that’s when Frank finally wakes up from this unpleasant state of mind and raises his eyebrow at Ray.

“What? You know I only drink on special occasions.”

Ray shrugs his shoulder, “I was just wondering if yesterday evening was a special occasion, I guess.”

“Not, it wasn’t,” Frank says, trying to do so politely. After all, at this very moment, Ray’s more a boss than a friend. “Sorry,” Frank sighs, “I’m just in the worst mood ever. Will try to keep it down, though.”

Ray nods at this, obviously glad he didn’t have to go all important-speech-now at Frank. “It’s okay, man.”

Ray’s gone in the next second, disappearing in the kitchen. Frank rubs his hands against his apron when he hears the familiar bell above the door ring. He looks up, a habit he couldn’t shake off if he tried, and unlike with the voice, Frank can tell it’s Gerard right away.

Sure, he _has_ changed, Mikey was right about that. Gerard looks like Gerard, but he is a very non-Gerard person as well. He’s barely into his twenties but he does look older than Frank – there are wrinkles coming down from the corners of his mouth and he’s paler – well, paler than he used to be. His hair is longer, too, almost touching his shoulders, but not quite there yet. Frank takes this in in less than half a minute, but Gerard catches him staring anyway.

Frank regrets that, because he could have hidden in the backroom and asked Ray to… just do something owner-like. This way, he _knows_ he needs to come up to Gerard and actually bring him coffee, or lunch, and not poison him in the process.

Frank wonders, as he approaches the table Gerard decided to occupy for the next few minutes, where does all the anger and hate come from. He seriously thought he was over this whole thing, but ever since he heard Gerard talking shit, he’s been a ball of rage. Sort of.

“What can I get you?” Frank asks him, his voice remarkably distant. He doesn’t bother with hello’s and hi’s. 

Gerard clears his throat and looking small, he looks up at Frank. His fingers are barely touching the menu lying on the table. “I’m not really here to eat – “

“Coffee, then?” Frank suggests in the same cold voice, glad he managed to cut Gerard off. 

Gerard looks as if he was at a loss of words. He shifts in his seat, obviously uncomfortable – no wonder if he’s been stuck in his basement for the past few days and never went anywhere apart from going for a smoke.

“I, uh – okay.”

Frank nods, hoping his features won’t give away how nervous he is. He turns around and leaves Gerard’s table before he can be asked any question or told anything Gerard might want to say. 

After he tells Pete, the guy who handles drinks of all sorts, to make coffee, Frank excuses himself and hides in the staff’s toilets for a second. He knows he’s got to go back at some point, but he also feels like he needs to escape for a few minutes in order to breathe.

Now, hands down, he has no idea what makes him act this way. Frank is pretty aware of the fact he’s being overdramatic and he knows he’s overreacting, but for some reason, he seriously can’t help it. It’s like Gerard brought back Frank’s long-gone anxious attitude and it takes a while to get adjusted to that, maybe even push it away. Frank’s just trying to handle this, trying to overcome the fact they used to be best friends. Because, just as his mother said, it’s hard dealing with that. Well, being forced to face it is definitely different from simply getting over it in his mind. Frank hates it, but it’s totally not the same thing at all.

He actually calms himself down and washes his hands before coming out of the toilets. Sure, his heartbeat is still practically uneven, but he can deal with it. And he can deal with Gerard and his stupid attitude.

“Thanks,” he says when Pete hands him the coffee. Frank puts the cup on a small tray, grabbing a napkin, a spoon and sugar. He doubts Gerard would request milk, but he pours some into a small glass anyway and with that, he makes his way to Gerard’s table. “Here’s your coffee, enjoy it,” he utters when he places it in front of Gerard without looking at him.

He’s already one or two steps away from Gerard’s table when Gerard finally calls after him.

“Frank,” he tries, and his voice is loud enough for Frank to stop. A head or two turn in their direction and Frank hates Gerard for making this public so he can’t escape.

He stops and backs those few steps, forced to look at Gerard’s face. He notices a little, barely noticeable, scar right above Gerard’s upper lip. He doesn’t remember it, so he must have gotten it in New York. Frank can’t help but wonder what exactly happened there.

“Yeah? Anything else?” he asks and those heads that have previously turned to them go back to their business, thankfully.

“I just – “ Gerard lets his hand fall to the table and it’s only now that Frank notices he actually reached out as if to grab Frank and stop him if needed. “I just wanted to apologize for yesterday, what I did was… very uncool.”

“Yeah,” Frank mutters, thinking, _Yesterday? The things you’ve done in the past four years were very uncool._ “Happens.”

“I had a fight with my mother just a few minutes before you appeared. I was – uh. You know what I mean.”

“I don’t know why you’re telling me this, though,” Frank admits, still not quite okay with where this is going. All of a sudden, he realizes what Gerard’s doing – he’s just being friendly, or trying to be at the moment, actually _ignoring_ the fact their friendship has been over for quite some time now.

Gerard shrugs and Frank raises an eyebrow at him, because – seriously? “I don’t know. Too much information?”

“Yes,” Frank says and the corners of Gerard’s mouth jerk as if he was holding back a smile. “So, can I go back to my work or…?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Gerard says quickly, his neck reddening. “Sorry. I just – we’re cool about yesterday, then?”

“Yes, we’re cool about _yesterday_ ,” Frank responds, emphasizing the last word. He doubts it comes across, though. 

He finally leaves Gerard’s table at that, thankful as ever that he can finally look at anything but Gerard’s face. It’s strangely motivational. 

He tries his best to ignore Gerard’s presence in the diner, though, and does a pretty good job at that, actually. He even manages to catch Ray and ask, as politely as he can, if he could take care of Gerard. Ray, of course, knows about everything (partially thanks to their talking nights, partially thanks to the fact the town is one huge old lady that spreads rumors like plague), and despite Frank’s behavior earlier that day, he agrees without much begging on Frank’s side.

Frank doesn’t even see Gerard leaving the diner, which, he thinks, is simply a blessing.

*

Two blocks from his work on his way home, Frank reconsiders and decides there must be something wrong with the stars and constellations today. It would be all fine, really, even his grumpy mood has almost left him, if it weren’t for Gerard jogging up to him from across the street and joining him.

If you asked Frank what was the possibility of meeting Gerard twice a day a few hours ago, he would definitely tell you those chances are really low. Because, according to Mikey, Gerard rarely left the house. But here he is.

“Please, tell me you’re not following me around,” Frank says, annoyed. 

Gerard giggles, the sound oddly familiar in Frank’s ear – he almost cringes. “My mother actually forced me to go grocery shopping,” he responds, waving the paper bag in his hand.

“I thought you didn’t do outdoors,” Frank comments, unable to force the bitterness out of his voice.

It’s just Gerard’s attitude, really. Frank probably wouldn’t mind if Gerard approached him like a normal human being, aware of what they fucked up – because it’s not like Frank blames only Gerard, okay. But like this, with Gerard pretending like nothing ever happened, like they’re still friends who simply didn’t see each other for a very long time, it’s seriously getting on Frank’s nerves.

“And I thought we were cool?” Gerard offers, the end of the sentence going up in a question. That’s good, Frank thinks, at least Gerard’s not trying to turn everything into a joke. That would probably be even worse.

“Whatever you say,” Frank mumbles under his breath. 

“So, mind if I join you?” Gerard asks after that, obviously determined to keep up any kind of conversation, just to avoid the silence.

“You already did,” Frank reminds him, still not sparing him a single look. He’s probably not being fair here, but he can come up with one thousand excuses for himself and so he is completely fine with it.

“Yeah,” Gerard admits and his shoulder brushes against Frank’s. Frank wasn’t aware that they’ve been walking so close to each other, and he takes one quick step to the side to keep the distance between them. “I just thought we’d walk home together. You know, in honor of the old times and all that.”

And, you know, Frank wondered. He really wondered what would be the breaking point, what would be too much, what would simply cross the line. Obviously, it’s those old times Gerard mentions and the fact he dared to do so that does it for Frank.

His diva mode comes right back on, and to his excuse, he actually thinks he has the right to do this. He stops mid-step and his eyebrows raised, he makes a grimace clearly saying he really doesn’t understand what this is about. “What the fuck, Gerard?” he spits out in the end, and the anger that’s running through him at that very moment is actually an echo of the anger he felt when they fought over the phone.

Gerard just looks at him, as if not aware of doing anything wrong, the stupid paper bag still swinging in the air even though he’d stopped moving, too. He’s facing Frank now, his expression familiar to Frank’s – the same confusion minus the anger.

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” Frank continues, extending the question a bit.

Gerard blinks a few times. “Well, the old times when we –“

“No,” Frank cuts him off. “You don’t get to do that. _I_ don’t get to do that. The old times are exactly that, old times, and they are in the past. End of story. We’re not doing anything in honor of them. _We_ put them in the past when you left because this place, your family, we weren’t good enough for you. And now you come back and act like it’s a punishment, and then you start chasing me around like we’re still friends, but hey, I have a surprise for you. We’re not.”

Frank is well aware of the fact he’s probably red in the face, his temper going up. He knows he needs to stop right there or he’ll end up yelling at Gerard in the middle of the street and he definitely doesn’t need to do that.

Gerard’s taken aback for a few seconds, clearly astonished that Frank was actually capable of facing him on this issue, addressing it without much trouble. “I can’t say you’re not right,” Gerard squeezes out eventually, “But maybe you could be less of a drama queen while at it.”

Frank narrows his eyes and he eyes Gerard, as if trying to decide whether he’s dreaming this or it’s actually happening, as in, all real life and shit. He’s pretty sure this is not a hallucination and Gerard really is a douche like that.

“Wow,” he utters in the end, “Fuck you.”

With that – totally continuing in being a drama queen – Frank starts walking again and is more than relieved when Gerard doesn’t follow him nor does he try to keep on fighting.

The anger is still fresh and alive in Frank, bubbling like boiling water. He wishes he could go back and simply punch Gerard in the face, simply because he really, really deserves it, but of course he doesn’t. The feeling that he managed to speak up for himself is pleasant enough. He can still feel his heart beating fast, faster than he’d think is possible, and his paranoia gets the best of him when he feels like Gerard’s just keeping the distance but is otherwise still walking behind him, burning holes into Frank’s back.

When his mother asks him how his day was, Frank mumbles something rather incoherent and isolates himself in his room, basically telling the world to shut the fuck up.

He blasts Black Flag really loud – something he hasn’t done ever since high school – and tries to escape reality and the bugging thought that maybe he was too harsh with Gerard. He tells himself he wasn’t and lets himself drown in the music for a while.

The loud music is the reason Frank doesn’t hear the knock on the door. He doesn’t hear it the first time, not even the second time, and when he finally hears it, it’s not really knocking anymore, it’s a balled fist against the door.

Frank frowns at the door, wondering what his mother could possibly want to demand his attention like this. Unwillingly, he hits pause and stops the music, noticing how empty the room is without the sound filling it.

He drags his feet to the door, acting just like a teenager, and opens it wide with a practiced annoyed expression on his face.

The expression falls, though, the moment he sees Gerard standing there with an uncertain smile on his face. “Seriously?” Frank almost groans, fighting the urge to shut the door right in Gerard’s face. Of course, _of course_ Linda would let Gerard in and send him up to Frank’s room. Why is he so fucking surprised?

“Your mom tried to call you, but –“ Gerard trails off and waves his hand. “So she sent me up and I, uh.” Gerard drops his gaze and scratches the back of his neck furiously.

“What are you doing here, Gerard?” Frank asks then, sounding tired. The anger had left him – which is probably for the best, to be honest – and the exhaustion is really the only thing left. When he looks up at Gerard, he can see this reflecting on his face as well, and even though he can’t be one hundred percent sure, he thinks there will be no yelling or anything like that this time. Well, that’s at least that.

“Surprisingly,” Gerard says with a small grin on his face, “I’m here to apologize. But, like, for real this time.”

Frank takes some time to decide, but then, dumbly, he realizes he doesn’t really have any other choice than let Gerard in. He can’t reject him, can’t send him away, especially when he’s not mad anymore. His conscience would kill him if he did that, because it would basically stand against everything he usually believes in.

Frank opens the door wide, then, an invitation for Gerard to come on in.

Gerard does and he looks around. If he notices that the room hasn’t changed at all, he doesn’t say anything about it and keeps any remarks to himself.

He reluctantly chooses Frank’s chair to sit on, and Frank takes the bed for himself, sitting down on it, cross-legged. This, too, reminds him of the old times – it reminds the both of them, probably, but once again, they don’t mention it. Frank remembers, though, all those afternoons they spent in this room talking about high school and how shitty it was. They both mentioned leaving, but Frank never really meant it – Gerard did, and he acted on it. It was pretty much as shitty as the whole high school thing, if not even shittier for Frank.

“So?” Frank asks after a few moments of complete silence and raises his eyebrow questioningly. “If you’re sending me telepathic waves or something, I’m not getting it.”

Gerard finally looks up from the floor – Frank’s tempted to check if he managed to burn a few holes into Frank’s old carpet – and biting down on his lip, he finds Frank’s eyes with his.

“So my ego really wants me to apologize for what happened earlier today, like, only for that,” Gerard confesses and it definitely doesn’t erase the curious look on Frank’s face, “but I know I need to apologize for more. I know I was a jackass,” he says and drops his gaze once again, “and I’m sorry for that. I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did, and I’m really sorry.”

Frank lets out a sigh. In the end, this is what he wanted to hear all along and surprisingly, it actually works. He relaxes right after those words are said, and maybe, he thinks, it’s because he really just needed to know that Gerard still cares. And now that he knows, everything gets remarkably easier.

“What the hell even happened to you, Gerard? I mean, don’t tell me you started acting that way because you decided to like, out of the blue,” Frank demands, reluctant to admit it’s a friendly conversation now, not a matter of forgiving Gerard for whatever he might have done.

Gerard laughs at that, being a little drama queen himself. “New York sucked ass, Frank.”

It surprises Frank, because if anything, that’s not something he expected to hear. “Oh,” he utters, “I thought it was a dream coming true. So did you turn your back on everyone because it didn’t work out?” And he really, really tries to not make it sound bitter.

“No,” Gerard argues right away, “Being there, at that moment, it was awesome. But now that I look back, I know it sucked, and I know it wasn’t worth it. And I’m kind of mad at myself for all that shit.”

“Okay, now I’m confused,” Frank admits and shifts on the bed, lying down. He’s staring up at the ceiling now. “Mind to elaborate?”

“I will kill you if you tell Mikey, though.”

“It’s Mikey. He probably knows already,” Frank insists, but then waves his hand, “But sure, whatever. I won’t tell him.”

“Okay,” Gerard sighs and suddenly, Frank can feel his eyes on him. It’s not exactly uncomfortable. “I didn’t actually drop out. In my second year, I failed most of my classes, and that’s it. I failed because I partied a lot, you know? And then when there was no school I just stayed with my boyfriend. He had a job, you know, was older than me, I relied on him completely. Big mistake.”

“Big mistake? Why?” Frank asks, secretly in awe. He had no idea Gerard actually didn’t drop out, it was completely new information, and even though Gerard would hate him for it, Frank almost feels sorry for him. As an ex-best friend, he knows how much Gerard wanted to study art. Yeah, he wanted to leave in the first place, but he wouldn’t if it wasn’t for the art school.

Gerard snorts. “Because my ex was an ass and it got bad towards the end. Lots of verbal abuse and all that shit. That’s it, though. He hit me once, here,” he says and when Frank looks, Gerard’s pointing at the small scar above his upper lip, “but I really provoked him that time and I think he was genuinely sorry about doing it. He liked to use words to hurt others.”

“Why would you stay with him for two years?” Frank asks quietly. He looks up at the ceiling again, unable to look Gerard in the eye for some reason. 

“Three years, actually,” Gerard admits, the smile audible in his voice – it would probably be a sad one, though, if Frank looked. “It started at the beginning of my sophomore year.”

“Yeah, but why?”

“I don’t know,” Gerard says reluctantly, “I guess I saw it as the only option. It became a habit later on, really. But I ended it, so, that counts.”

“It got to be too much?” Frank suggests.

“Something like that, yes.” As Gerard says that, Frank sits up again and notices Gerard’s doodling something in one of Frank’s notebooks. He looks up and puts the pencil down, a slight blush creeping up onto his cheeks. “So, I’m sorry for being a dick. Are we okay?”

“Yeah, we’re okay,” Frank says and it doesn’t cost him much trouble. They are okay, in the end. He even cracks a little smile at Gerard, not sure if he should comment on what’s just been said or leave it be.

Gerard decides it for him when he gets up and heads for the door. “Okay. I’m glad. I should probably get going, my parents basically told me I need to dine with them or I’m homeless.”

Frank laughs. “Little at war with them at the moment?”

Gerard grins, nodding his head. “I wasn’t being a dick just to you, you know,” he says as he makes a grimace and cocks his head to the side. He shoots Frank one last look and then his hand goes for the doorknob, already resting there and pressing down.

“Hey,” Frank calls out, little bit louder than he’d intended. It makes him blush, like he’s genuinely embarrassed, and Gerard looks back at him with a soft smile dancing on his lips. “You should stop by at the diner. If you want to. I’m usually busy but I could talk to you from time to time.”

Gerard’s eyes seriously light up when Frank says that, and his smile is wide this time. “And maybe we could hang out after you’re done with work?”

“Sure,” Frank nods, really not aware of how his heart picks up a quicker pace. “That would be nice. So I’ll see you soon?”

Gerard nods and disappears from Frank’s room, and Frank is left there dumbstruck. 

He has no idea what just happened, no idea how to treat this, no idea why he is still blushing furiously. What he said was one hundred percent spontaneous and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to get Gerard again, not to mention actually being friends with him. However, he really feels like giving it a shot and his stomach ties into a knot when he imagines finding his way to Gerard again. It could be fun.

The knot in his stomach could be butterflies.

*

Gerard starts spending lots of his time at the diner, though, not always eating and not always drinking coffee. Frank always steals five minutes here and ten minutes there and sits down next to him, or facing him, and they talk.

“How can you even sit here for all those hours?” Frank wonders almost every day and Gerard always just shrugs and points at his sketchbook. Yeah, that’s what he’s doing all the time. Doodling. Drawing. Whatever the business is. “Ever gonna show me?”

“Not yet,” Gerard says with a slight frown. “They’re not good enough. But when they are, I’m gonna show them to you and… maybe I’m going to submit them to some magazine.”

“Like, a comic book magazine or something?” Frank offers, excited. He’s not sure how long did it take Gerard to draw again, but he’s definitely glad to see him working on something.

“Yeah,” Gerard nods and it’s actually audible that he’s proud of himself.

“Well, I’ll be here to share the excitement when that happens. Okay?” he suggests and a small blush creeps onto his face when Gerard’s lips curve into a smile.

“I’d be kinda happy to share that with you, yes,” he agrees and Frank _knows_ this isn’t them. They’re not the item they used to be – they’re something else entirely, and what with Frank and his stupid knots in his stomach, it’s becoming kind of clear as to what it is exactly. Frank’s haunted with the image of Gerard’s face every hour of every day and these prolonged looks definitely don’t help the issue.

“So,” Frank clears his throat when it gets awkward, “I’m moving into my own apartment this Friday. I already asked Mikey and your parents a long time ago to come, so now I’m going to do the same with you. Would you like to come?”

Gerard’s body moves forward, obviously pleased that this invitation now involves him as well. “Hell yes. That’s awesome, by the way. That you’ve got your own place now.”

“Yeah,” Frank nods and amazed, he realizes he’s achieved more than Gerard in this way – he never left the small town, but he managed to get a nice job, and now he really does have a place that is his, and his only. No more sharing with someone else. It’s not perfect, but Frank is definitely happy with where he is with his life, and when he looks up at Gerard, his face is a combination of surprise and happiness. 

He would have probably said something stupid about it if it hadn’t been for Ray calling Frank’s name.

“Ah, gotta go,” Frank sighs and gets up, pointing at Gerard’s sketchbook, “You keep doing what you’re doing so we can get excited soon.”

“Will do, captain,” Gerard laughs and he obeys, his hand going for the sketchbook already. His eyes are still glued to Frank.

“Oh, and it’s at five. I mean Friday. It starts at five,” he stutters as he backs away from the table. He’s too embarrassed to think too much about it – he really doesn’t want to admit to himself that he might have a crush on Gerard. Just a tiny little one.

“I’ll be there,” Gerard confirms and they exchange smiles once again. 

It’s creepy, Frank decides. The whole thing is creepy and he needs to get in control of his own mind. He knows it’s because Gerard’s someone new, unknown, and it’s also because he grew up to be this cracked image of something he used to be a long time ago and it’s fascinating. And damn, he’s hot. Frank can sure admit that to himself, right?

*

The day when Frank moves into his new apartment will definitely not go down in his history, he knows. There’s his mom, of course, and all the Ways, and Pete. Frank is ridiculously sad Ray couldn’t make it, but someone had to stay at the diner, he knows that.

He’s still pretty determined to make this into a good day, and maybe having only a few people around is an advantage.

He guides them through the apartment and he’s appropriately proud of himself for creating a place for himself. Everyone ‘aah’s and ‘ooh’s at the right times; well, everyone except Pete, who is as sarcastic as ever. But all in all, it’s a nice evening; if Frank can say so, it works out and he’s pretty happy about everything.

Well, not everything, not exactly. There’s this little detail that Frank really can’t overlook and it is the fact that Gerard looks smoking hot tonight.

Oh, Frank knows. Frank knows he gave himself multiple speeches why it is a wrong idea to think about Gerard like this, but it’s not like he can help it when he sees Gerard sitting across the room, grinning at him every now and then with that stupid grin of his, looking like that. Frank perhaps takes too much time to notice what Gerard’s wearing and honestly, even that bugs him a little, which is not a surprise.

For the millionth time, he tells himself it was a bad, bad idea he ever agreed to try friendship with Gerard again. Well, okay, originally he thought it was a bad idea because Gerard could leave and be a dumbass again, but still. This is _not_ a good thing, really.

Anyway, as the evening goes on, Frank really tries his best to ignore Gerard and his looks (which doesn’t always work, since he’s the host and he needs to talk to every guest at least once).

Frank’s mom almost pinches his cheeks when he gets to her, but he gets his face out of the way in time. “Mom,” he groans and laughs when she tsk-s at him. 

“I’m really proud of you, sweetie,” she says what she’s told him many times since the very first time he mentioned moving out. He knows there’s a tiny bit of sadness in that pride, but he’s happy she’s holding it back and not ruining it for him. He wouldn’t want to feel sorry tonight.

“Thanks, mom,” he says as lovingly as he can, because he owns Linda a big deal. He always will, because, well, he is the son and she is the mother and that’s simply how things work.

The Ways are nice to talk to, but it gets a little bit awkward when Donna can’t hold it back and says, “I’m really glad you’re hanging out with Gerard again. I think it’s good for him.”

And, okay. It probably is, because Frank was the only one who had the balls to tell Gerard what an idiot he’s been. But it’s not cool to bring it up like this, definitely not when you put it like that – like Frank’s doing this just because it’s good for Gerard. He feels bitter about it, perhaps because it’s not just friendship he’s been feeling towards Gerard, and he has to bite his lip to hold back a witty comeback that’s already sitting on the tip of his tongue.

“Yeah, me too,” he says instead, leaving it up to Mrs. Way to figure out whether he’s glad they’re hanging out or whether he thinks it’s good for Gerard. “Thank you for coming, it really means a lot,” he adds then, looking at both of them.

Mikey’s on the phone when Frank’s about to approach him, so he has to decide whether to go to Pete or to Gerard. He almost goes for Pete, but then he realizes he’s not really in the good Pete-mood and so he’s left with nothing else but Gerard.

“Hey,” he says when he sits down on the couch, joining Gerard. ‘You look good’ almost slips out of his mouth, but he manages to bite it back. 

“Hey,” Gerard echoes and looks to his side, grinning at Frank. “You never told me it looks so nice in here,” he comments, “I just figured you wanted out of the old house. But this place is really great, you know.”

“Thanks,” Frank says and he wishes he wouldn’t blush so much. “I didn’t want to brag too much. But hey, of course it’s awesome. I mean, it’s mine. And I am awesome.”

“Sure thing, little one,” Gerard smirks.

“Shut the hell up,” Frank laughs and nudges Gerard in his side, too much of a reminder of the past. “I thought we were over the dwarf jokes.”

“We are never over the dwarf jokes,” Gerard corrects him, the grin still sitting on his face. 

Frank feels ridiculously tempted to reach out with his hand and rest it on Gerard’s thigh, just to see if those pants were really as tight as they seemed to be. He can feel his fingers itching, as if they were on fire, and he regrets that he sat down. He should have just stood there, chat for a while, and then continue his rounds.

“Feels weird,” Frank comments after a while when the silence becomes a bit unbearable. “I mean, moving here.”

“Yeah. Man, we always lived practically next doors. How am I supposed to just knock on your door in the middle of the night now?”

“You’ll have to take a walk first, I guess,” Frank remarks and this time, it’s him who gets nudged in the side. “What, it will be healthy for you.”

Gerard sighs beside him and falls silent again. Frank doesn’t have much to tell, either, and he’s not trying to escape the silence now. For a second, he just stupidly appreciates they’re able to just joke around again, because pissed off or not, Frank has always missed this. This comfortable-ness he gets when he’s with Gerard, and even though this is new, it partially feels like the old times as well. It’s hard to describe, even in Frank’s head, because Gerard is still a stranger, but there’s a part to him that is still the same. Frank really doesn’t know, and maybe that’s so fucking intriguing, maybe that’s why he can’t help but like Gerard in _that_ way. Because now, there are parts of him Frank doesn’t know and doesn’t understand and it’s impossible to imagine getting to know them without actually be in Gerard’s bed on a Sunday morning and – whoa, stop there. Where did that even come from?

“I’m just,” Gerard says all of a sudden and Frank almost thanks him, because it wakes him up from his daydream just fine.

“You’re just what?” Frank encourages him, and as he turns to his side again, they’re finally facing each other.

“I’m just glad we’re friends again,” he says quietly, as if he was afraid other people in the room could hear them. But everyone else is entertaining themselves just fine and the only one to hear those words is Frank. 

“Yeah,” falls from Frank’s lips, uncertain.

“I know I probably didn’t deserve a second chance, but I’m so glad you’re not an idiot like me, that you’re actually this great person who can forgive others – “

“Are you drunk?” Frank cuts him off, his eyebrow raised. First of all, he’s really not used to this kind of approach from Gerard, and second of all, he really can’t handle such words coming out of Gerard’s mouth, he really can’t.

Gerard looks surprised for a second, confused. He shakes his head then. “No, why?”

“I just thought you were drunk-talking or something. Really not used to such praise from you, man,” Frank says as he desperately tries to play it cool, too afraid some of the emotion actually got into his voice.

“Yeah, that made me feel really good about myself,” Gerard comments sarcastically. “I just really wanted to let you know I appreciate the second chance you’re giving me here. Sorry if I sounded like my mother or something.”

Frank snorts, “It’s cool,” he says, but then he feels it’s not enough, and perhaps it isn’t. “I’m glad we’re friends, too,” he adds then, without thinking it through, and now they’re positively sound like two old ladies who just made up after fighting over something stupid. He’s not even sure where they caught the emotional – maybe it’s just the evening, at least on Frank’s part – since they’ve been hanging out for a few weeks now.

Gerard stares for a little while, as if he couldn’t believe that Frank actually means it, and then a small smile cracks his serious face and Frank reciprocates willingly, grinning as well.

Their staring contest continues for a few more seconds, and Frank’s really starting to lose himself in it, even though not sure what it means, when Mikey clears his throat and Frank notices he’s standing right in front of them.

“I’m starting to think I’m interrupting something,” Mikey announces and puts on his serious/important face (they are very identical, just like half of his other faces).

“You’re always interrupting something,” Gerard tells him in a somewhat pissed voice but moves to the side so Mikey can sit between them – and does so more than willingly, as if he was happy to ruin whatever conversation was going on before he appeared. Which is probably true and normal since, for a human being with feelings, it’s probably not easy to see your friend being stolen by his ex-friend, now a friend again. 

Anyway, the moment is over and so is the staring contest and while he knows he should be polite and talk to Mikey, Frank totally lets the brothers talk and zones out. He doesn’t even feel guilty about it.

When the evening slowly turns into night, everyone realizes they should probably be going and Frank, to be honest, is not going to stop them. He’s pretty tired himself and he can’t wait to sleep in his new apartment for the very first time.

“I’ll stay and help you clean the mess,” Frank’s mom offers, and before Frank can even open his mouth, Gerard appears out of nowhere.

“No, I’ll stay. You go home, Linda. It’s late.”

“Well, I could always just stay here, honey – “ 

“Actually,” Frank cuts im, jumping from Gerard to his mom with his eyes, “you probably couldn’t, because guest room is everything but ready, and we all know that not even a dog would sleep calmly on that old couch.”

“But what does it solve if Gerard stays?” Linda asks with a raised eyebrow, “He’d have to stay, too.”

“I can walk, really,” Gerard offers quickly and Frank eyes him, suspicious. Gerard’s definitely up to something, but Frank can’t exactly ask him right now. “You go home. I’ll help Frank clean the mess. That okay with you, Frank?” he asks then and turns to Frank, his whole face just one big question mark.

Frank opens his mouth but no sound comes out of it at first. He’s not really sure what to do, he doesn’t even know if he wants to be alone with Gerard right now, but in the end, he nods. “Yeah, sure.”

Gerard even helps Frank see all the guests out and Frank does the best job he can of not noticing Mikey’s look when he leaves. He’s pretty sure it’s not the jealous kind of look, and if it’s not that, he seriously doesn’t even want to know.

They clean the living room in silence. They exchange a word or two now and then, but other than that, they’re quiet, as if they were tired of talking and existing in general. 

After half an hour, they are left with a bag of chips and two bottles of wine, which Frank places on the kitchen table. Then, reluctantly, he picks one of bottles up and looks at Gerard who is just throwing out the last few paper cups.

“Let’s have a drink,” Frank suggests, not really sure where that’s coming from. Damn, half an hour ago, he didn’t even want Gerard here, and now he’s offering him a drink? What the hell?

“Why the hell not,” Gerard responds as if he was waiting for this to happen, and he grins.

“Let’s take it to my room,” Frank says then, and then blushes when he realizes what he’s said. “I mean, I’m extra proud of that room, and it’s the most me-room in this place so far, and I just really want to feel comfortable right now. You know what I mean?”

Gerard nods, “Yeah. I know exactly what you mean. Let’s go, then.”

They end up sitting on the floor, because there are no chairs in Frank’s room so far and it’s quite dangerous to drink wine on white bed sheets. Gerard tells Frank he doesn’t mind, though, and so they sit there on the floor, both cross-legged and sipping wine from actual glasses Frank brought along. They couldn’t even get classier.

“I liked tonight,” Gerard says after a while and he nods to himself as if he was trying to add a confirmation. Yes, this person is telling the truth.

Frank just rolls his eyes. He’s halfway through his second glass already. The wine tastes good and it’s like a cure for his tired body. “It was mostly just _exhausting_ and I’m not doing this ever, ever again.”

“Hey, but what if you find yourself a boyfriend and you want to move in together, so you find a new place and all that?” Gerard asks, watching Frank’s face intently.

They’ve never talked about whether Frank was gay or not, but it doesn’t sound all that strange to Frank. It really doesn’t occur to him that Gerard just wants to figure out his sexuality. “Well, then I would have my boyfriend handle it. End of story.”

Gerard laughs, the sound sincere, and he pours himself a second drink as well. “I like that attitude. Wouldn’t want to be your boyfriend, though.”

“Now you’re just lying,” Frank exclaims in a completely serious voice and he doesn’t even realize what he’s saying. He’s walking on thin ice here, but his mind is too tired and busy accepting all the alcohol for him to care. “Who wouldn’t want to be my boyfriend? Any guy would be lucky to have me.”

Gerard bites down on his lip and his eyes light up, but in a dark way, a way Frank can’t really decipher. “Well, you’d have to prove that to me.”

Frank knows it’s a challenge and he’s sober enough to know it’s a very stupid one. To shush that part of his brain, he drinks the rest of his second glass of wine and then stares at Gerard for a few seconds, licking his wine-stained lips. He knows exactly what he wants to do, but it’s hard to decide if he’s actually got the balls to do it.

“You want me to prove it to you?” Frank asks then, a grin tugging at the corner of his lip.

“Yep,” Gerard confirms.

Frank lets out a deep breath and his heart skips a beat when he finally decides. He places the now empty glass on the floor beside him and shifts, getting on his knees. His half-drunken mind is telling him that this is a good idea, and sometimes, you just got to listen to that.

He kneels all the way to Gerard – which is really not a big distance, they were sitting pretty close to each other – and when he gets there, he rests his palms on Gerard’s knees. Gerard is watching him intently, unmoving like a statue, as if ready to stop this whenever needed. But Frank wouldn’t let him, not now. He slowly moves his hands up Gerard’s thighs, and he knows, he knows there’s a reason he’s doing this, knows it’s because Gerard kept looking at him in a way Frank was way too familiar with. 

It’s all so very slow and awkward, but eventually, Frank’s straddling Gerard’s hips, his arms around Gerard’s neck, loose and lazy. They keep staring at each other for another few seconds before Frank opens his mouth slightly and leans forward, pressing his lips against Gerard’s.

It’s like Gerard’s been waiting just for this, because his hands settle on Frank’s lower back right away and he presses against Frank’s lips, a fight for control. 

No one wins. No one could ever win.

Frank’s tongue goes past Gerard’s lips soon, and whoa, the wine is really good, especially the remains of it right there in Gerard’s mouth. It’s delicious.

Somehow it’s still a surprise when Gerard responds, opening his mouth wide for Frank, cocking his head to the side to grant Frank better access. He moans right into Frank’s mouth, and it’s soft and warm and melts into the moan escaping from Frank’s lungs at the very same time.

Frank pulls away, then, licking Gerard’s saliva off of his lips. “So, would you be lucky to be my boyfriend or not?” 

Gerard’s hand goes up Frank’s back. “I’d be the luckiest,” he breathes out and when he leans in to get another kiss, Frank shakes his head. It’s really just the last sane part of his mind acting up and it’s talking before Frank can shut it off.

“There is a teeny tiny possibility that we really shouldn’t be doing this, though,” he informs Gerard while still nestled in his lap. Gerard’s hands are running up Frank’s back, warm and pressing down on his shoulder blades.

Gerard steals a kiss, a simple, soft one, nothing like the one they’d shared just a few moments ago. “I don’t care.”

And that’s it, Frank thinks, that’s why everything went to hell in the first place, that’s why they stopped being friends, that’s why Gerard left all those years ago. Because he simply didn’t care, and that one bit of his personality has never changed. 

But Frank is tired of worrying about things. He’s tired of doubting Gerard, of doubting himself, of doubting anything that could possibly happen or not happen between them. He squeezes Gerard’s shoulder, much harder than he’d intended to, and Gerard gasps. It’s as if he was shaking him awake, trying to make him see things that aren’t all that visible. 

This could ruin us, yes? Yes. We’ve barely made it to being friends again, yes? Yes. We should treat it gently and not fuck it up, yes? No. The answer is clear in Gerard’s eyes. Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s just because it’s supposed to be like this. Because they’re supposed to be close in this way.

In the end, it’s not like Frank doesn’t want it. It’s not like his dick isn’t painfully hard in his pants, it’s not like he doesn’t want Gerard’s hands to take care of it.

“Me neither,” Frank utters at last and as he moves his hips, their crotches meet. Frank lets out a gasp, and in that very moment, when Gerard’s fingers wrap around Frank’s wrists tightly with no intention of ever letting go, he’s lost. They both are.

Frank’s mouth finds its way to Gerard’s, Frank can’t control it and he no longer wants to. Gerard’s lips are dry, easily wetted by Frank’s, and when they tongues meet, Frank doesn’t care it tastes like all the booze they’d had. As he closes his eyes, ready to give himself into Gerard, be it this moment or the moment sometime in near future, his head spins. For a second, he thinks he might throw up because he’s had too much to drink, but then he realizes it’s a different sensation. He might not throw up, but he might lose his head, just like that.

Gerard’s fingers are digging into Frank’s skin, taking control, and Frank doesn’t mind. Something in him tells him that this is how it is supposed to be – he’s got no problem letting Gerard hold him, simply because he feels like it’s what Gerard needs to be this person at this very moment.

“Fuck,” Frank breathes out when Gerard’s lips go down, all the way to mouth at Frank’s neck, leaving a wet trail behind. Frank balls his hands into fists and the need that’s rushing through him could be easily called animalistic. He wants all of Gerard, every touch and kiss and motion he can get, and this one single emotion has pushed everything else away.

Frank doesn’t remember feeling this weightless in years, if ever.

When he realizes this is his ex-best friend he’s making out with, a giggle escapes his mouth before he can hold it back. It breaks the mood for a second, Gerard’s lips going still against Frank’s skin, making it look like Frank’s simply leaning against a marble sculpture a touch couldn’t mend. 

“Bed,” Frank says then, not even sure why he’s heading in that direction. You can escape a drunken kiss, but you certainly can’t escape drunken sex, no matter what. It hides behind you like an extended shadow and you simply can’t run away from it; it’s glued to you, and it could be a bad thing, but it could also be a good one.

Frank’s determined to make it a good one, but one’s mind can often trick you.

He climbs off of Gerard, missing the touch right away. He chances a glance at his wrists, knowing they will be bruised from all the gripping, but he genuinely hopes Gerard will pin him down the moment they get rid of their clothes and fall onto Frank’s new bed.

They barely manage to stand up before their mouths crash together, as if curious what it’s like to kiss each other while not sitting on the floor, comfortable.

“No, no, come on,” Frank utters and he doesn’t know where his willpower comes from, but despite his want he pulls away. “Undress.”

Frank doesn’t mean it as a command, but Gerard stands there sort of dumbstruck for a few seconds, as if hurt or confused or suddenly not so sure he wants to do this. Frank bites down on his lip, still tasting Gerard there, and cocks his head to the side. Gerard looks calm, apart from his quickened breathing, but stuck. 

Frank’s almost sure nothing is going to happen for a second, but then a small smile fights its way onto Gerard’s face and he catches the hem of his t-shirt between his fingers. Clumsy, he begins to undress himself and even though Frank asked him to, they both know it’s his choice and his choice only.

Frank lets out a deep breath he never realized he was holding. He goes for his own shirt, then, and for a few seconds, he loses sight of Gerard.

He’s in too much hurry to be embarrassed, but when he gets rid of every single part of his clothing, he realizes how vulnerable he is like this. Gerard’s staring at him, suddenly a few feet distance between them, and Frank stares back. His eyes wonder down from Gerard’s face, explore his chest, his arms, his hips, his legs, and then go back up to – oh, Gerard’s dick. Frank is, hands down, pleased with what he sees. Not just because Gerard looks fucking beautiful like this, but because Gerard’s dick is fully erect and Frank just – he might have let a soft moan escape his mouth.

His neck reddens when he realizes he’s been staring for way too long, and closes the gap between him and the bed. He sits on the edge of it and then moves, lying on his back.

The sheets are new, and so is the bed, and so it doesn’t creak underneath him. Even the bed lets him know he really is weightless right now. 

Frank forces himself to look back at Gerard, still standing in the middle of the room with an unsure look on his face. It’s like he’s questioning this – was that an invitation? Wasn’t it?

In the end, he finally makes his way towards the bed and kneels on it. Frank swallows and spreads his legs a little – definitely an invitation this time, no doubt about that. Gerard positions his body between Frank’s legs, spreading them a bit more.

For the first time, Frank is absurdly glad they had that fight those years ago and stopped being friends for a while. There’s absolutely nothing awkward about this, no embarrassing memories to recall while kissing, nothing that could bug them. That’s what happens with best friends – you might fall for them, but there are always limits you would never cross, and if you do, it’s more uncomfortable than pleasant. Not that Frank knows that – he’s currently thanking all Gods that he doesn’t have to go through that.

His hands are soon travelling down Gerard’s chest when Gerard leans closer and connects their mouths once again.

Frank opens his mouth right away, not able to tease Gerard and to tease his very self. Their bodies press against each other, Frank’s erection rubbing against Gerard’s hip.

“I have wanted this,” Gerard murmurs when he breaks the kiss to drag his lips along Frank’s jawline, “since that day in the diner. When I came to apologize.”

Frank smiles, this confession completely unnecessary. “I hated you back then,” Frank confesses back, and he knows it’s just as unnecessary. Too much talking never leads to sex.

Gerard nods and looks Frank’s face up and down, as if searching for any leftovers of that hate. “I know. And you were right about me.”

Frank brings his hand up and runs his fingers across Gerard’s collar bone. “Well, maybe. But I was also wrong. I had no idea what you went through, didn’t know what changed you. I had no right to judge you.”

“Forget about it,” Gerard says after a short pause. He obviously doesn’t like that Frank brought Gerard’s past, his change up. Frank probably should have kept his mouth closed, but he doesn’t regret saying that – it’s true.

As if to prevent Frank from saying anything else, Gerard’s mouth comes up to Frank’s once again and his tongue invades Frank’s mouth in a less gentle way than before. 

Frank lets Gerard do anything. Soon, his wrists _are_ pinned to the bed above his head and no, he’s definitely not complaining. Gerard repositions himself so their cocks actually rub against each other every time either of them moves their hips, and Frank feels like he’s about to explode and it might happen at any second now.

His lips must be swollen from all the kissing, he knows. The alcohol he’s had before starts to disappear; he’s too overwhelmed with everything else to pay special attention to how drunk he is, though. It might have been an excuse to go for this, but now that they’re actually naked, pressed against each other, it doesn’t matter at all. They’re doing it… whatever _it_ is.

Soon, because Gerard really can’t wait any longer, he shifts and moving down, he plants small open-mouthed kisses all across Frank’s chest, making him arch his back and lean into the touch.

And then, Gerard’s hands are anywhere. One second they’re at Frank’s sides, and then they’re squeezing Frank’s arms, but then eventually end up resting against the soft skin of Frank’s inner thighs. Gerard pushes them apart even more, and then he looks up, puzzled.

“I suppose you don’t have lube and condoms in your completely new apartment?” he asks with a grin, and Frank laughs and covers his face with his palm, embarrassed.

“Surprisingly, no,” he acclaims and then his smile fades. “You’re not going to back out of this, though, are you?” 

“No. No, I’m not. It’ll just take longer, is all. I don’t want to hurt you,” Gerard offers and Frank nods to that, as if melting under the words’ effect. 

In all honesty, Frank has never imagined Gerard touching him this way. He never thought he’d ever suck on Gerard’s fingers, trying to cover them in saliva. He never thought he would spread his legs for Gerard, would throw his head back for him, would bury his fingers in Gerard’s longish hair. Frank really never thought it would feel so good to have Gerard’s fingers inside of him, and he certainly never thought he would ever long for those fingers to be replaced with Gerard’s dick. But shit, he really wants that right now.

Gerard’s ridiculously thorough with the whole prep thing, and Frank grows more and more impatient every time Gerard’s fingers brush against his prostate. He’s practically losing it when Gerard adds another finger to the two that are already inside, and moves them. The stretch is familiar, it’s not the first time he’s done this. If Gerard doesn’t do anything soon, it will be the first time Frank comes just from prostate stimulation. No kidding.

Gerard’s fingers are warm and slow and know exactly what they’re doing, and every time Frank looks at Gerard, there’s just this _look_ on Gerard’s face that is almost too much.

“Gee,” he murmurs, his eyes closed as he is somewhat embarrassed to use this nickname. “You’d better – “

“Yeah, okay,” Gerard utters and when their eyes meet again, Gerard gives Frank an apologetic lop-sided grin. “I just wasn’t sure – “

“Okay, well, be sure now. I just – God, I really want you, _now_.”

It works like a magic formula, because it changes Gerard’s expression completely. The love – or whatever it was, Frank does not want to call it love for his own sake – gets replaced with lust, perhaps, or maybe hunger; the same hunger that’s been present in Frank’s own face. 

Their movements get frantic after this, messy. Their tongues meet in a chaotic, unorganized mess when Gerard guides himself in. It’s still gentle as he goes all the way in, and once he’s there, he even stops for a second, as if waiting for Frank’s approval.

The only thing Frank’s capable of giving is a simple jerk of his hips – he’s definitely not capable of a verbal response in this very moment.

He feels full to the very top, and he feels amazing. He feels small, hidden underneath Gerard’s body, and he doesn’t think anything ever felt safer. 

The emotion, all the things he’s been feeling, it gets lost in the act itself. It’s quick, especially after Gerard picks up a pace, and it definitely doesn’t last for very long. Frank wishes they had all the time in the world, but eventually, his brain shrinks and contains only cut off sentences, parts of words, and colors. He wants everything, wants it now, and his vision is blurry and bathing in black and red and grey, and, of course, the color of Gerard’s skin. 

Gerard owns him in the moment, completely. He could do anything and Frank would gladly take it, wouldn’t even complain, as long as it would mean Gerard will never stop moving.

But everything ends at some point and nothing can last forever. And in the end, despite everything that’s been running through Frank’s mind in that troubled mess, he knows he needs this to end, soon. He knows he can’t take any more.

He’s too lost in himself to care about Gerard, too. Maybe the next time, maybe the next time if there is a next time, then he will wait for Gerard and maybe they will come together. Even though it’s a lot of maybes in one sentence. However, right now, Frank can’t wait, and the only warning he gives Gerard is a squeeze on his shoulders. He grips Gerard’s shoulders tight, as tight as he can, and as he closes his eyes, he comes. 

And this is, well – this is definitely a first time, since he’s never come without touching himself. And if he recalls correctly, although it’s not very easy to remember anything at all while flying through the universe, Gerard didn’t touch him either. Eventually, the knot in his stomach unties itself and his muscles finally relax, limp and tired and Frank feels fucking spent. 

Gerard pulled out while Frank was out of himself and he’s finishing himself off, his hand running a quick pace. Frank wants to help, wants to replace Gerard’s hand with his own, but he’s too tired to do anything, and so he just watches, and that’s not a bad thing to do at all. He marvels at Gerard’s thighs, tensed and glistening with sweat, and okay, he kind of marvels at Gerard’s dick as well. He even holds his breath when Gerard comes, staining those white, clean, new sheets. Frank stares at his face, and he knows he could find Gerard’s grimace ridiculous, but he doesn’t. He’s astonished, really, trying to remember the way the corners of his mouth jerked, and how flushed his cheeks were.

He even wants to remember how Gerard collapsed next to him, exhausted just like Frank, and how they limbs found their way to each other, twining and creating a complicated piece, their sweat gluing them together.

“So what now?” Frank dares to ask after a few moments, after they both settle down and sort of nest against each other, too tired to move around and find a more comfortable position.

Gerard shrugs. They both know what they’ve done and with the alcohol worn off, it’s probably time to properly face it. “Now we wait for the morning to come,” Gerard says instead and Frank doesn’t have anything clever up his sleeve that he could say to this.

In the end, it’s true. Waiting for the morning to come seems like a pretty reasonable thing to do.

*

The morning comes fairly quickly. Frank actually wakes up rather early, considering what a night he’d had. His head hurts, but he’s pretty sure it’s not because of the wine. It’s probably just a migraine or something, but it’s still pretty bad.

He turns around, in his own fucking bed, Jesus, that feels awesome, and face pressed against his pillow, he groans. Another groan echoes it and Frank’s eyes shoot open.

Holy shit, Gerard. Gerard’s with him, lying right next to him, oh fuck.

Frank remembers then, and although the memory itself makes him shiver, a wave of fear rushes over him and he feels sick in the stomach for a few seconds.

What will Gerard do when he wakes up? Frank remembers the teasing, remembers all the words that were said last night, and he’s pretty sure Gerard remembers as well. But still – it would be so easy to blame this on drunkenness and Frank is ridiculously scared Gerard will do exactly that. It’s one thing being friends and something else entirely to hook up. How do you even go around that?

Well, Frank knows for himself. The knowledge comes to him easily, he doesn’t even have to try all that hard or think about it.

He knows he would be contented to have Gerard here, in this bed, all the time. He knows he would totally do it again. He knows he fell for Gerard and he knows it’s way more serious than it should be. He can’t talk for Gerard, though, and that’s where the fear comes from, and weighing down on him, kicking the air out of his lungs.

Frank doesn’t know for how long he lies there until Gerard wakes up.

“Thank God my head doesn’t hurt,” is the first thing he says as he nuzzles against Frank’s naked shoulder. Frank’s still tense, waiting for Gerard to remember. “Fuck, I want more sleep. Need it, actually.”

Frank rolls his eyes at himself when he realizes he remembers that sleepy voice from sleepovers. That thing about Gerard hasn’t changed at all.

It takes Frank a few seconds to break the silence and say something. “Yeah, I know.” It’s the stupidest thing to say, but it’s not like he could unsay it now.

Gerard opens his eyes and looks up at Frank. There’s definitely no sign of confusion in there, oh yes, he remembers and as far as Frank can tell, he’s okay with it. “I’m debating whether you’re gonna kick me out or not.”

Frank’s heart skips a beat and as he bites down on his lip, he shakes his head, speechless for a moment. It brings a smile to Gerard’s sleepy face, and that’s probably one of the most beautiful things Frank has ever seen. “You told your parents you were gonna go walk home last night. What are you going to tell them today?”

Gerard looks away for a second and then, when he looks at Frank again, he smiles. “I could tell them I got very lucky. If that’s okay with you.”

Frank can’t help the blush that covers his cheeks in an embarrassing shade of red. He can’t believe it works out like this, he can’t believe they’re actually not going to forget about last night. And he’s glad – he thinks that he might have gotten even luckier.

“Yeah, you tell them that,” he says at last and forces a sloppy kiss somewhere near Gerard’s mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> a. Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the fic. :)
> 
> b. If you have an LJ account, please be so kind and leave feedback on my LJ masterpost [here](http://viviansface.livejournal.com/36634.html). As it is my main journal, it would be nice to receive feedback there. However, it's not like I'd get mad if you just commented on here. ;) 
> 
> c. I know this story is short and it's not much, but I really wanted to write it and since it might easily be the last fic I'll ever write in this fandom, it didn't feel right to give up on it. Finishing this meant a lot, even though it's not the best thing I've ever written. I apologize for that, but I hope it was still at least a little bit enjoyable and entertaining.


End file.
